“And he’s gradually walking toward me. Each step makes my heart skip a beat, like an executioner sealing my fate. Still, my fear is now drowned out by my innate desire to see him up close.” – C.D. Rachels, Jade Lion and the Witch Boy
C.D. Rachels’ Jade Lion and the Witch Boy, part of the multi-author series, Haunted Hearts: Season of the Witch, is an inventive Gay Paranormal Romantasy that stands out for its authentic, Own-Voice queer Asian representation, and for its seamless blending of magic into a contemporary world. The novel’s portrayal of its multiracial and multicultural characters feels genuine, and subtle cultural dynamics are woven naturally into the journey of our two main protagonists. This is all thanks to the author, who uses his background (and sexuality) to infuse his book with authenticity.
These elements provide emotional depth to his story as he navigates both personal identity and the hidden magical spheres surrounding the “seen world.” The coven structure is presented with a refreshing modern sensibility, rather than relying on conventional or classic witch tropes; covens function as organized, everyday community networks with their own politics, responsibilities, and interpersonal conflicts. These are multi-faceted witches who work, go to school, and date.
Also, the coven is not homogeneous, as Seb’s membership illustrates, and while there is a head witch, all voices and individual magical abilities matter. These are friends and colleagues, not tropey competitors and back-stabbers. That said, jealousies and private machinations do play a delicious role in the plot; frenemies have always been a thing. Rachels’ magical community feels both accessible and believable within this contemporary setting. This modern framing makes magical existence, so to speak, feel less like an escape from reality and more like an extension of it, mirroring everyday communal dynamics in a fantastical way.
The novel’s fantasy elements further elevate the story. The Jade Lion’s shape-shifting ability is not treated as a mere supernatural power but as a layered metaphor tied to identity, ancestry, empowerment, and vulnerability. The physical transformation mirrors his emotional one; learning to control or embrace the shift parallels learning to articulate and accept parts of himself he once feared or hid.
Equally fascinating is the shop of curiosities: an enchanted space that somehow appears capable of moving through time and space. This enigmatic place functions as a narrative “gateway” to possibility.
These fantastical devices enrich the character arcs and themes, supporting the story rather than overwhelming it. Altogether, Jade Lion and the Witch Boy offers readers a queer contemporary fantasy that feels both magical and grounded, with cultural authenticity and imaginative worldbuilding at its core.
Something I really appreciate in Rachels’ writing is the bold, unapologetic way he frames the Jade Lion’s power. The narrative doesn’t hesitate, qualify, or attempt to “prove” his strength through elaborate comparisons. Instead, it simply states it, cleanly and confidently. This kind of direct proclamation has long been familiar in European fantasy traditions. Wizards and mages like Merlin, Raistlin Majere, Elminster, or John Dee, and witches and sorceresses such as Baba Yaga, Circe, Morgan le Fey, or Queen Bavmorda have been declaring themselves “the most powerful in the land!” for centuries. These bold declarations have shaped an archetype of magical authority deeply rooted in European myth, occultism, and literature.
Seeing Asian magic users presented with that same assuredness, without humility rituals, trials, or narrative self-doubt, feels genuinely refreshing. It offers a form of representation that doesn’t hinge on struggle, restraint, or outsider narratives. Although our main protagonist, Seb, who is himself of Mexican descent, frequently shares his impressions of Kai, they aren’t framed through comparison or contrast. The novel treats Asian identity and Asian magic as inherently worthy of grandeur, awe, and mythic stature. It also does so without relying on the entertaining but culturally caricatured tropes found in works like Big Trouble in Little China. In this way, Rachels truly gives them their flowers, placing Asian magic on equal footing with the long lineage of legendary European sorcerers. It is empowering, resonant, and long overdue.
In romance fiction, including gay and M/M narratives, queer Asian men are underrepresented and often
depicted through stereotypes such as fetishized roles as submissive or exoticized objects of desire. These portrayals reduce complex individuals to racialized fantasies. Jade Lion and the Witch Boy exemplifies how queer Asian men can be portrayed as fully sexual, emotionally rich, and celebrated for their bodies and desires. Through Kai and Seb, the novel emphasizes mutual attraction, emotional growth, and authentic desire, celebrating non-white characters’ bodies and relationships.
Jade Lion and the Witch Boy is a richly layered contemporary Gay (or M/M) Paranormal Romantasy that balances heartfelt character work with imaginative magical concepts. Through its authentic portrayal of Asian identity, which is never one-note, its thoughtful reimagining of covens as modern communities and friends, and its artful use of magic, the novel offers a story that feels at once autobiographical (Seb), fantastical (Jade Lion), and sensual (these two guys together!). Rachels reclaims sensuality and desire for marginalized bodies, challenges dominant white-centric standards of representation, and provides readers with authentic, humanizing portrayals that honour both identity and sexuality. As an Own-Voice writer, he delivers a narrative that is not only entertaining but also deeply meaningful; it’s a testament to how fantasy can illuminate the truths and pleasures of lived experience.
